On ChouChou, and other vegetables
On Monday, our beloved cat ChouChou turned up dead in a neighbor's yard. ChouChou, who shared his name with one of Mauritius's most enigmatic legumes, was all that you could hope for in a pet: he was warm, affectionate and doting. For example, most mornings when I took my shower, ChouChou would stand just beyond the curtains and wait for me. He also was a heroic figure to the other cats, who often fought amongst themselves for the opportunity to cuddle up next to him.
As I saw it, ChouChou's fur color furnished indisputable evidence that God, provided he or she exists, has a wry sense of humor and a keen appreciation for irony. As an all white cat, ChouChou's fur left a visible record of his misadventures. For instance, ever since March when we got ChouChou fixed, his bottom has been flanged with bright purple streaks... Apparently, veterinary antiseptic products double as permanent hair dye (although, pointedly, none of our other cats remained purple-bottomed for long).
As someone who never had pets growing up, I certainly wasn't expecting to house a small troupe of felines upon my move to Mauritius. However, that said, my cat's companionship has been wonderful and I love them as if they were my own furry, four-legged, meddlesome kids.
Alas, rest in peace ChouChou, you will be missed by all.
Labels: cats
